


Finding Home

by bookwormchocaholic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Contemporary AU, F/F, Murder Mystery, my first curious archer fic, no magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 09:36:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15288669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookwormchocaholic/pseuds/bookwormchocaholic
Summary: Tilly Jones may or may not have killed someone...she can't remember. But then when she meets Margot, she is able to discover the truth, and she finds love along the way.





	Finding Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [onceuponanovel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceuponanovel/gifts).



> Special, special thanks to Mariequitecontrarie for all of her beta work on this. As well as providing the title for this story. 
> 
> This is my first Curious Archer fic. I usually write Rumbelle fics, but when I saw Curious Archer in Season 7, I thought they were adorable and wanted to try and write for them. Apologies if it fall short in any way.

Tilly passed the large troll beneath the bridge for the third time, uncertain if she should hang around or return to her boxcar. She had been wandering the city for hours and now the dark shroud of night had descended. Feathery brown clouds covered the moon and only the dim streetlights lit her path. She paused for a moment, before she started pacing around the bridge again, her lithe frame too keyed up with unspent energy to be stationary for long. Hugging herself, she sank her two front teeth into her lower lip, tears threatening to sprout.

Images, like quick film cuts, flashed through her mind. They were disjointed and foggy, and she couldn’t be certain, but she may have just killed someone.

She remembered going to the bakery to buy a small cake for herself and the next thing she knew she was standing over the little old lady, with a bloodied butcher knife in her hand. She could easily recall the unblinking eyes of the dead lady, the weight of the butcher knife, and the crimson sheen on the blade. But for the life of her, she couldn’t remember plunging the knife into the woman’s frail chest. The last thing she could recall was throwing the knife on the floor and dashing out of the bakery.

 _I would know, right?_ If I was a murderer. She gulped. She might not be able to summon the memory, but certainly she would know in her soul if she had taken a life. She would feel different…darker.

Tilly considered crawling up into the troll’s lap and talking to it the way some children talked to Santa Claus, but she knew it was useless. The troll no more granted wishes than Santa Claus did. Not now that The Witch was involved. Tilly shuddered; that hideous creature ruined everything.

She wiped her cheeks dry and shivered again when she detected movement out of the corner of her eye. _It’s The Witch, I know it is!_ The Witch followed her everywhere, taunting and tempting her to join her and her group. Confusing her, stealing her thoughts, and making trouble. The Witch was the devil on her shoulder, a devil she could not shake off.

 _Home. I want to go home._ Her little abandoned boxcar on the outskirts of Hyperion Heights wasn’t much, but it was the only home Tilly ever knew. After spending years in orphanages, unwanted due to her troubles, once she was of age she took to the streets. The Witch had sought her out, inviting her to join her group, but Tilly soon realized that The Witch was not to be trusted. Since then, she battled The Witch’s stronghold on her.

Tilly turned and stepped away from the Troll Bridge and out into the street. The howl of a car horn blared in her ears, but the blinding headlights made her freeze into place.  
Suddenly, a hand clasped around her forearm and she was jerked back to the safety of the sidewalk. Tilly came face to face with a girl near her own age and size. The hairs on her neck stood up on end when she felt the girl’s cinnamon scented breath on her cheek.

“Are you all right?” The girl dragged Tilly into the light. Her bespectacled gaze flittered, as the girl looked her over. “He nearly hit you!”

“I’m fine.” Tilly gave a nervous laugh. Relief flooded her, that it was not The Witch or some unknown copper hauling her off to jail. She tilted her head in amazement and took her time to study the girl. “You see me? No one sees me.”

“Really?” The girl made a face and shook her head. She was pretty, in a modest way, but it was hard to tell beneath the layers of clothing she was wearing. Her small face was peeking out between her knitted cap and a thick scarf. “You’re kinda hard to miss.” The girl’s slim fingers were still on Tilly’s wrist. It was the first time in a long time that someone had willingly touched her. On the very off chance that people noticed her, they tended to avoid her. She couldn’t help it, but for some reason she made others uncomfortable. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Tilly nodded. “Yeah, just Crazy Tilly lost in her own head again.” She rubbed at her temple and blushed, wondering if she were really as crazy as she sounded. “If my head wasn’t attached to my shoulders, it’d be rolling around on the ground.”

The girl locked eyes with her. “They say the craziest people are the best.”

Tilly drew in a breath, wondering if the girl could see inside her soul and detect the truth. If she was a murderer or not. When the girl smiled and compressed her hand, Tilly sighed with relief. _The bakery lady, the knife, the blood…it was all a dream. I dreamt it up!_ It had to be a terrible nightmare. _Yes, that was it._ She sometimes had difficulties differentiating between reality and her dreams.

“Thanks for not letting me die.” Tilly gushed, gently squeezing the girl’s hand in return. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask the girl what her name was, but then Tilly noticed The Witch.

The Witch was across the street, demurely waving at her. She was difficult to ignore, in her long, dark flowing robe and her flaxen hair partly braided and partly hanging free. Despite the vehicles barreling past, The Witch approached, taking excruciatingly slow steps, weaving in and out of the traffic.

Tilly disengaged herself from the girl and retreated. “Right. I have to go now.”

She broke off into a run, barely hearing the girl call out, “See you around!”

Tilly prayed to whoever and whatever was listening, that The Witch wouldn’t follow her home.

#

Tilly pushed the sliding door of the boxcar open, climbed inside, and after flicking on the light, she slid the door closed. She sighed and flopped onto a picnic chair, thankful to be back in her little sanctuary. No one knew the boxcar was her home. The neighborhood overlooked it as much as it overlooked her. Rustic and musty from being constantly shut up, she had decorated it herself to the best of her scrounging abilities. Trash days were her days; uncaring people cast off so many useful things. One man’s trash was another’s treasures. Her fold-out cot, work desk, and metallic shelf had been found on trash days. Her other furnishings had also been picked out of the trash, found left out on the street, or bought from the Goodwill using her savings from the aluminum cans that she sold to the recycling center. Cold in the winter and hot in the summer, with one leaky corner, the boxcar was still her home.

Her attention was diverted to a shiny, glinting object she couldn’t remember leaving on her work desk. Rising to her feet, she moved toward it with outstretched fingers, then jerked back and swallowed a yelp.

It was the bloodied butcher knife!

Tilly grabbed it and held it up to the dimly lit bulb. “Oh God!”

The knife jutted in her shaking hand.

She had distinctly recalled leaving the knife on the floor of the bakery.

“The Witch!” Tilly hissed and scanned the boxcar, but the spiteful creature was nowhere in sight. But she could still feel The Witch’s presence. “You did this! I know you did, you can’t fool me.”

The Witch must know where she lived and could come for her at any moment.

The wail of police sirens closing in made her jump. _I have to get out of here._ Tilly tossed the knife back down on the desk. _I have to get out of the Heights._ If the police suspected her of murdering that lady, they’d lock her up and throw away the key. _Crazy Tilly, that’s how the police sees me!_ Grabbing her bookbag, she pitched in all of her smaller treasures, and her measly savings of fifty-some odd dollars she had tucked away in a cracked cookie jar.

She shrugged into her old green army coat and was about to head out when she stopped. Tilly chewed on her lower lip, hard enough to make a hole in the flesh. If she left the knife, someone would eventually discover it. It had her fingerprints all over the handle.

Snatching up an old towel, she wrapped it around the knife, and stuck it into her bookbag. Then she zipped it closed.

Tilly took a deep breath, left her boxcar for one last time, and ventured out into the dark abyss.

#

Tilly’s fingers tightened around the straps of the bookbag hanging off her back. She was used to toting around a huge pack, but somehow with the bloodied knife buried beneath, it was heavier. People passed her by, barely giving her a second glance, completely unaware that she had a murder weapon on her. Scrunching her forehead, she knew there was nothing on her brow, but she felt as though she were wearing some kind of mark that branded her.

The bus station. If she could make it to the bus station and skip town, then she’d be all right. At some point she would have to dump the butcher knife, but once she disposed of it, she would be on her way to starting over. She’d lose herself in some big town and be happy there.

Tilly stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and knew that she was not alone. She could sense her presence. Slowly turning on her heel, her suspicions were confirmed when she found The Witch a few feet off.

“Hello, Tilly,” The Witch greeted warmly.

Tilly scrambled in the opposite direction, and she didn’t stop until stabbing pains pierced her sides and she was gasping for air. She was nowhere near the bus station, but at least she had escaped The Witch. For now. The creature seemed to follow her wherever she went. With her luck, The Witch would find her in the next town.

“Hey!”

Tilly raised her head up and smiled as a girl strolled over. Not just any girl, it was the girl who saved her life the evening before.

The girl paused a couple paces away, and now that it was daylight, Tilly could better appreciate the girl’s appearance. Tall and lean, the girl’s dark blonde hair was drawn back in a braid and its plait dangled over her shoulder. In a khaki jacket, a dark green peasant blouse and jeans, she possessed that tortured artist look.

“It’s you! Tilly, right?” The girl grinned.

Tilly blushed and bowed her head slightly. No one remembers my name. Since she had been on her way to skip town, she never expected to see the girl again. Joy swelled within her chest. Due to living on the streets and due to her problems, it wasn’t often that she felt she had an instantaneous connection with someone.

But with this girl, it was different.

The single bleep of a police siren ruined the moment.

Tilly glanced over her shoulder and couldn’t see any squad cars nearby, but she could hear them coming. “I have to go.” She drew back, hating to run away from the girl again.

“Again?” The girl rubbed her chin and her light eyes brightened. “You’re in trouble, aren’t you?” The girl didn’t wait for a response and grabbed Tilly’s hand. “C’mon, this way!”

They ducked into an alley and hid behind a small wooden fence that connected the two buildings. The police car drove on down the street and the bleeping siren faded. Tilly and the girl peered out from behind the small fence simultaneously, like two tiny bunny rabbits.

Tilly released the breath that she had been holding and slumped against the brick building behind her.

The girl studied her, crossing her arms under her chest. “The police are looking for you, huh?” The girl continued before Tilly could come up with an excuse, “Do you need a place to hide out? I’m crashing at my Aunt Roni’s while she’s out of town.”

It was on the tip of Tilly’s tongue to accept the girl’s offer. She liked this girl, she couldn’t help it. But she wasn’t born yesterday. No one did anything without expecting something in return. Especially for a homeless person. People tended to be afraid of the homeless and they looked down on them. Besides, it would be foolish for her to go off with some girl she barely knew. Even if the girl did save her life and helped her hide from the police.

“Why are you being nice to me?” Tilly licked her cracked lips and crossed her arms as well.

“Why wouldn’t I be nice to you? The name’s Margot, by the way.” Margot lifted her chin, and added, “Margot with a ‘T.’”

“Targo?” Tilly asked, thinking that didn’t make any sense.

Margot giggled, rolling her eyes. “‘T’ on the other end.” She sobered and looked thoughtful. “Look you can take your chances on the streets if you want, but whatever it is you’re running from, its bound to catch up with you. Trust me, I know from experience. So, you coming or what?”

Tilly knew it was foolish to go off with someone she barely knew, but she also figured her chances with Margot were better than skipping town. If she laid low for a while, it would give her some time to decide where to hide the butcher knife and to figure out how to resurface without drawing any suspicion. And perhaps, The Witch, would lose interest in her and plague some other desperate soul.

Tilly nodded. “Okay.”

Tilly climbed out of the alley way after Margot and fell in step beside her. She couldn’t help but notice how right it felt to have Margot next to her. It left her wondering if Margot could ever feel the same way about her.

#

Tilly began to unwind after she heard the “snick” noise of Margot locking the door. She hung back, waiting for Margot to take the lead.

Her new friend motioned for her to follow and waved her hand, spanning the area of the apartment. “Make yourself at home. If you’re hungry, there’s plenty of food in the fridge. Or if you want to grab a shower, be my guest.”

As if on cue, Tilly’s stomach growled and she yearned to stuff herself until her belly pooched out. Living on the streets, her stomach was often empty and she had to ignore those gnawing hunger pains. Whatever food she could find, she wolfed down immediately. Rarely did she have the time to savor a single morsel. But a long, hot shower…that was a rare treat. The showers she took at the YWCA, were quick and could not be enjoyed, for fear someone would discover her and realize she didn’t belong.

Tilly took a small stroll around what served as a living room. She shrugged off her bookbag and slumped down on the couch. Bobbing up and down on her rear, she tested the couch. The cushions were flattened, but soft and this couch was far more comfortable than her fold-out cot in her boxcar. Kicking her feet up on the coffee table, she crossed her arms behind her head.

“Do you often invite strange girls over to stay with you? I could be a serial killer for all you know.” Tilly couldn’t help but quip.

It was an odd joke to make, considering she had a bloody butcher knife hidden in her bag, and the nuns at the orphanage repeatedly scolded her for her warped sense of humor. Unfortunately for her, the things that rolled off her tongue often led to trouble.

Margot chortled, not at all put-off by her joke. Of course, then again, she didn’t know what was in her bag. “What’s the chance that we’re both serial killers?”

Tilly eyes widened and then she giggled.

Margot joined in laughing and shook her head. “I always trust my gut and my gut is telling me that you’re a good person. Eccentric, but good.” She stepped around the coffee table and sat down on the edge of it. Leaning forward, she braced her elbows on her knees. Her blue eyes sparkled with excitement. “Why are the cops after you? Did you steal something?”

Tilly felt the blood drain from her face, but she nodded. “Something like that.” She drew her legs down and stood. “I’ll take you up on the shower now.”

Margot rose and quirking her index finger, she brought Tilly to the bathroom. After showing her how to operate the shower, pointing out where their soaps and shampoos and towels were, Margot gave Tilly her privacy.

Tilly turned on the faucet and let the hot water run for a couple minutes. She peered in the bathroom and for a split second, she saw The Witch leering at her. Squeezing her eyes shut, when she opened them once more, she was relieved to see only her own reflection staring back. She looked wild; her light blond hair was crinkly and her round eyes had deep shadows beneath them. Sleep evaded her far too often. Despite her rough life, she looked far younger than her twenty-five years. Her two front teeth settled on her lower lip. _Bunny girl._ They used to call her at the orphanage and to this day, she did resemble a bunny. She couldn’t recall the last time she truly smiled. Until she met Margot.

 _Margot…_ Her eyes began to water.

This new friendship with Margot wouldn’t last long. Nothing in her life did. The Witch would ruin it as she ruined everything else.

#

Tilly was partially stretched out on the coffee table, staring at the ceiling, her legs propped up on the couch. She patted her flat stomach as though she were playing the bongo drums, bopping to the song stuck in her head. Margot was downstairs, working in her Aunt Roni’s bar, leaving Tilly with far too much time on her hands. Having spent her recent years outside, enclosed places made her feel trapped. It had been three days since she took off with Margot. She should have brought her Rubik’s cube or a deck of cards to pass the time. Watching TV was out of the question. The unfamiliar voices confused her and she began to hear other voices in her head.

Her heart skipped a beat when the front door opened and Margot swept into the room. The girl giggled and hung her head upside to meet Tilly’s gaze.

“I know you’re technically in ‘hiding,’” Margot made air quotes when she said the word ‘hiding.’ “but I thought it might be nice to get out. You can wear your jacket and keep the hood up.”

Tilly swung her legs around and scrambled off the table. “Yes! I’m dying of boredom.” She exclaimed, wishing that she could kiss Margot for coming up with a brilliant idea. She grabbed her heavy jacket and struggled into it. Then she plucked up her bookbag slid her arms through the straps. Finally, she drew her hood up. “Ready!” she chirped.

“So, do you take that thing everywhere with you?” Margot eyed her bookbag, her small mouth quirked into a purse.

“It has all of my treasures in it.” Tilly charged forward, eager to draw Margot’s attention away from her bag. She really needed to dispose of the butcher knife, but she didn’t know where she could without it leading back to her. “Race you downstairs!”

Since Margot had been so good to her, Tilly let her win.

After grabbing a couple of coffees, she linked arms with Margot and kept in step with the girl. She was over joyed when Margot directed her into a little bookshop. It had been ages since she read a new book. Not long after she was released from the orphanage, Tilly tried hanging out at libraries. They were warm and dry and safe, but the old librarian didn’t like her loitering about, talking to herself. The other patrons had complained.

“I come here all the time.” Margot sighed and leaned against one of the wall shelves. “What’s your favorite book?”

In the orphanage, she read everything she could get her hands on. Reading came easier to her in those days, but that was when she was on medication. Those pills were a mixed blessing; at times they helped her focus, but other times a dense fog settled in her mind. The last book she read was “Alice in Wonderland” and it fed her imagination like no other, but now her memories of it were fragmentary.

“Wow, that’s a hard one.” Tilly took a long drink of her coffee. She loved the chocolate flavored sweetness that coated her tongue. “It’d be like choosing a favorite star out of the heavens.”

“I feel the same way. Though, I’ll always have a soft spot for ‘Robin Hood.’” Margot handed off her coffee for Tilly to hold and held up her index finger. “Oh, wait here. I’ll be back.” She dashed off, heading to the front of the store near the cashier’s counter.

Tilly shrugged and followed the trail of colorful books leading to the rear of the store.

“Hello, Tilly.” A deep, earthy voice greeted.

Tilly swung around and came face to face with The Witch. Her coffee fell out of her quivering hand and hit the floor. Tan liquid spewed and saturated the carpet.

“How?” Tilly pressed herself in the corner, shaking her head from side to side. Stupid, Crazy Tilly let her guard down! The Witch had been waiting for her prime opportunity to pounce. “Why can’t you leave me alone?” She brought up her arms to fend off The Witch’s touch. But The Witch’s hands were like talons, closing around Tilly’s wrists in a painful grip. “Stop it! Go away!”

“You belong to me, Tilly.” The Witch pried her arms away and caressed her cheek. “You always have and you always will.”

“No, get out of my head!” Tilly squeezed her eyes shut and dropped to the floor, crushing the heel of her hand to her brow.

“You need me, especially after what you did.” The Witch’s words sounded fainter, but they continued to ring in Tilly’s ears long after The Witch vanished. “Only I can protect you. Join me.”

 _I need Margot._ In the three days she spent with Margot, The Witch had stayed away and the voices in her head were barely above a whisper. The second Margot stepped away, The Witch returned and now there was a chorus of voices buzzing in between her ears. Margot will help me; she will make it better.

Tilly sucked in a ragged breath, got to her feet, and rushed to the front of the book shop. Her bookbag swatted her upper thighs with each stride.

She found Margot paying for a hand-woven bracelet and chatting with the cashier.

Margot swung around and held out the piece of jewelry to her. “I saw this and I thought of you.” Her sharp gaze focused on Tilly and she grew serious. “What is it?”

Tilly lifted her gaze to look Margot in the eye, but she caught some movement in the store display window. The Witch pressed her face against the glass and wiggled her fingers.

  
“Oh God, stop it!” Tilly hissed and stomped her foot. “Go away!”

 _Tilly, Tilly, Tilly!_ A chorus of voices chanted. Like The Witch, the voices were powerful and could send her into a tailspin. The voices would give her commands, commands she knew were wrong. She would do her best to fight against them, but she wouldn’t always win. They made her do awful things.

Maybe they made me stab that woman.

“What?” Margot clutched Tilly’s shoulder. “Stop what?”

“Shh! The voices…” Tilly cupped her ears, a desperate attempt to keep out other noises and tried to reign in her thoughts. But they were like shooting stars across the dark expanse of her mind. “There’s a witch after me. She’s trying to steal my soul.” She whimpered.

Tilly realized that the shop had grown quiet and that both Margot and the cashier were gaping at her. Margot appeared pensive, but the cashier looked disgusted by her behavior.

  
_They’re staring like I’m a freak!_ Her face crumpled and she muttered, “I have to go.”

Tilly jerked open the front door of the shop and ran out into the street. She didn’t stop until she made it back to the safety of her boxcar.

#

No sooner did Tilly slide the door of her boxcar close, did it open again. She spun around on her heel and an audible gasp escaped from her. _Margot!_ She blinked several times, but it wasn’t her imagination. Margot was there. Despite her episode at the bookstore, Margot had come after her. No one had ever done that before. In the past, whenever someone had witnessed one of her episodes, they avoided her afterwards.

Then again, Margot had only seen a meltdown. She had no clue about the murder weapon in the bag. She’d run for the hills if she knew about that.

Margot furrowed her brow. “Is this where you live?” She rested her shoulder against one of the walls.

“I’m losing my mind.” Tilly hugged herself, her lower lip trembled despite her resolve to remain strong. “Why are you here? Why aren’t you scared of me?”

“What is there to be scared of?” Margot took a couple steps forward and then paused, smiling gently. “I’ve been places and seen things. Trust me, you’re not scary.” She raised her hand and held it out to Tilly. “Here, take my hand.”

Tilly frantically grabbed her friend’s hand, as if it were her only lifeline. And in many ways, it was.

“It’s going to be okay.” Margot cradled Tilly’s hand between her two. “Will you come back with me to Aunt Roni’s?”

Tilly’s heart swelled. She was tempted to jump at the opportunity, but she couldn’t. Not without Margot knowing the full extent of her mental problems. “Margot, I’m never quite sure what kind of day is gonna be. Sometimes I wake up, and the whole day is good, and then… sometimes it’s not. And I don’t want you to see the not-good days, not yet. Because it can be a bit too much for some people.”

“I get that.” Margot nodded knowingly but appeared nonplussed by Tilly’s little speech. “But you don’t have to worry, because it won’t be too much for me. No matter what kind of day it is.” Margot released her and rummaging around in her jacket pocket, she withdrew the woven bracelet that she had bought in the bookstore. “Here.”

Tilly grinned and held out her wrist. “Put it on me?”

Margot encircled the bracelet around Tilly’s wrist and tied it on.

Tilly continued to hold out her arm and admired it. Then she wiggled her fingers at Margot and cheered inwardly when Margot slid her hand into hers and they headed back to Aunt Roni’s.

#

Tilly rolled onto her side and reached out, blindly searching for Margot. Instead she found the other side of the bed sadly empty. She opened her eyes and sighed. The sweet memories of her and Margot talking throughout the night resurfaced. They discussed everything. For the first time in…years, Tilly felt she didn’t have to be ashamed to be herself. Best of all, they weren’t rushing into things. They were taking their time, getting to know one another. They were building their friendship first, which was the best foundation for any relationship.

Tilly scooted out of the bed, yawned and stretched, and then meandered out of the bedroom. She licked her lips; half-hoping Margot had gone out for breakfast with plans to bring back some of those scrumptious coffees. Afterwards she’d shower and together they would see what adventures lay ahead of them today.

She entered the living room and stopped short at the sight of her bag on the coffee table. Its contents had been dumped and spread out, the bloody butcher knife was in the center.

And Margot…Margot was perched on the edge of the couch, her face blotchy and eyes red-rimmed.

Tilly tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it was too big. A lone tear trickled down her cheek. “You went through my bag!” She balled her fists and stamped her bare foot. “How could you?”

 _Margot…_ Her best friend and true love. _Love._ It was love. She loved Margot. They had only known each other a few days, but Tilly knew in her heart that it was true love. But now it would never be. Not because of what Margot had done. Margot had betrayed her trust, but she could forgive that. She could forgive Margot of anything.

 _It’s me._ Tilly swiped her cheek dry. The truth was out now. She was a murder suspect. There was a possibility that she killed someone. The Witch may have prompted her to do it, but she did the actually stabbing.

“I was curious.” Margot explained, her voice raw from what Tilly assumed was from hours of crying. “You always have it with you and I thought you might need to take some medication, but...”

“No! The pills make me foggy.” Tilly shook her head, her wild bed head becoming more and more untamed. “I’m not me when I’m on them and I got rid of them.”

Margot’s eyes widened as large as her glasses frames. “Tilly, an old woman was stabbed a week ago. Did you do it?”

“I don’t know.” Tilly shrugged and wrapped her arms around herself. “I can’t remember. Why did you help me? Why did you invite me to stay here?”

“I liked you.” Margot stood and began to pace, her pretty features scrunched up. “You were different. I thought you stole something and maybe you had some problems, but everyone deserves a second chance.” She paused and gestured towards the butcher knife. “But I never expected this.”

Tilly understood. She had let Margot down and she hated herself for it. The best thing she could do now was be as open and honest as possible. “Listen,” She edged closer and cringed when Margot flinched from Tilly’s nearness. Lowering her voice, she whispered, “The Witch is behind this. She’s been after me for weeks. She wants me to join her and the others. I wouldn’t have done this if The Witch hadn’t made me.” Her eyes locked with Margot’s and she whimpered, “You have to believe me.”

“The Witch?” Margot repeated and after blinking a few times, she declared, “Tilly, if someone is after you, then you have to tell the police.”

Tilly pressed her palm to her heart, grateful that Margot believed her. She hated to go to the police. They didn’t like her and she could tell they whispered about her behind her back the few times she interacted with them. But if Margot thought it best to make a report to the police, then that was exactly what she would do.

#

Tilly dragged her feet as she and Margot walked to the police station. In the past, the police had been none too friendly to her. She had lost count the number of times they shooed her off park benches and away from entrances to buildings when she needed a place to sleep. That was before she discovered the box car and made it her home. They were the ones to cackle at her and call her “Crazy Tilly.” She doubted they’d believe her if she told them about the old lady and the bloody butcher knife.

The bookbag hung loosely from Margot’s shoulders. Tilly couldn’t take her eyes off of it, knowing the knife was in there.

She noticed Margot casting several glances at her; her eyes a mixture of concern and fear. Her friend’s mouth was drawn into a deep frown.

They paused across the street from the police station. Tilly’s skin began to tingle and she shivered, feeling as though someone was watching her.

Tilly surveyed the area and her eyes narrowed in on the space between the police station and the other building. The Witch was lurking there, peeking around the corner, smiling in her direction.

Her lungs contracted and she grabbed Margot’s jacket sleeve and jerked on it. “There she is!” Tilly cried out frantically, “The Witch is going to kill me.”

Margot gasped, her mouth swinging open. “Oh my God, I see her too. She’s not a witch, Tilly.” She gave Tilly’s hand a comforting squeeze. “She’s that freaky cult leader, Mother Gothel.”

Margot swung the bag off and tossed it to Tilly. Before Tilly could stop her, Margot charged across the street, ignoring the cars slamming on their breaks and the blaring horns.

Tilly rushed after her friend, pleading, “Margot, don’t. She’ll kill you!”

Once safely on the other side, Tilly’s body grew rigid and she was unable to move a muscle. Fear had taken possession of her, fear that The Witch would destroy them both. The Witch was powerful; she was stronger than any force in the world.

“Hey, I see you!” Margot charged up to The Witch and shoved her away from the building. “Did you kill that old woman? You can’t have Tilly, I won’t let you. Stay away!”

The Witch, having been caught off guard, recoiled and backed away from Margot. Tilly watched, dumbfounded, as The Witch hissed and then retreated in the opposite direction.

“Yeah, you better run!” Margot cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted. “We’re going to tell the police everything.”

The Witch was soon out of sight, as if she had vanished into thin air.

Tilly’s heart soared. Margot had chased her demons away.

“You saw her too?” Tilly asked, as Margot returned to her side. “All this time I thought I was crazy, but you saw her, too!”

“Of course, I saw her. And you’re not crazy, Tilly. You’re not!” Margot grasped Tilly’s shoulder and drew her in for a hug. When they parted, Tilly was relieved to find her friend smiling once more. “C’mon, we have to talk to the police. It’s going to be okay now, I promise.”

Tilly nodded, trusting that Margot knew what she was doing.

She had a feeling that life would be very different for her from now on.

#

ONE MONTH LATER

Tilly wrung her hands anxiously and shifted from one foot the other, as she lingered outside of Roni’s bar. She could see Margot through the window, behind the counter, drying glasses.

It had been a month since the whole debacle with The Witch – Mother Gothel – went down. Through Margot’s encouragement, Tilly explained everything to the police and thanks to Margot’s own encounter with Mother Gothel, they were able to prove Tilly’s innocence. A kind, older detective with a cockney accent had taken an interest in the case. Through finger print analysis and DNA, he was able to place Mother Gothel at the crime scene. Mother Gothel was arrested and was behind bars.

The detective encouraged Tilly to seek help and she did. Thanks to counseling and medication, her mind was clearer and her behavior was a little less erratic. She would always be impetuous and imaginative - it was part of her personality - but now that she was regulated on her meds, she could hold down a job and function the way others did. Some of the memories of her past returned to her; of how after she had left the orphanage, she had spent some time in Mother Gothel’s cult. Mother Gothel claimed she only wanted to mother those without a mother, and that she considered all of the lost souls in her care her children. Tilly had managed to escape one night and had remained on the streets until Margot took her in. According to the detective, Mother Gothel believed if Tilly was a suspect in a murder investigation, she might return to the cult for protection. Mother Gothel knew Tilly’s routine, that she stopped every day at the bakery because the owner gave her the stale cakes. The old lady had simply been at the wrong place, at the wrong time.

Tilly stared longingly at her friend through the glass door of Roni’s. She had missed Margot. They had seen each other a few times since Mother Gothel’s arrest, but she had wanted to get better before she entered into a true, romantic relationship. She sighed and told herself, It’s now or never.

Tilly pushed her way through the door and into the bar, bashfully waving when Margot’s head snapped up.

Margot ran around the counter and hurried over. “Hey, you look great!” she exclaimed, clutching Tilly’s hands.

“Thanks.” Tilly basked in her friend’s touch. She never wanted to let Margot go. “I’m back on my meds again, so things are a bit clearer. And I have a job now.” She raised Margot’s knuckles to her lips and kissed them. “Margot, thank you for believing in me. You saved my life.”

Remorse crept over Margot’s lovely face. “I have a confession to make.” She dropped her head, unwilling to meet Tilly’s gaze. “When I found the knife, I was going to turn you over to the police. It wasn’t until I saw Mother Gothel that I knew you were telling the truth. That she was your witch.” She sniffed and shook her head from side to side. “I’m sorry, Tilly.”

“Hey, you fought for me, like no one else.” Tilly insisted and she dared to reach over and touch her friend’s cheek, stroking it. “You saw me when I was invisible.”

Margot exhaled and she looked relieved. “I- I’ve been apartment hunting and I found one that I like. It’s a one-bedroom.” She slid her hand into her jeans pocket and pulled out her cell, giving it a little shake. “Um, I have pictures on my phone-”

“Don’t need to see it.” Tilly dismissed it with a shrug. “I love it. If it has a built in Margot, that’s all I need.”

Margot opened her arms and Tilly fell into her loving embrace. She tilted her head and her heart felt as though it might burst when Margot kissed her.

Everything was going to be all right, Tilly decided. She had finally found true, unconditional love and a home. There was nothing else on earth that she could ever want.


End file.
